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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29644581">031. Knife</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/xavierurban/pseuds/xavierurban'>xavierurban</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>quick-writes [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Robin: Son of Batman (Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blood, Bruce Wayne is a Bad Parent, Canon-Typical Violence, Damian Wayne Has PTSD, Gen, Injury, Jason Todd is a good brother, Knives, Protective Dick Grayson, Protective Jason Todd, Stabbing, Tim Drake is a Good Brother, no beta we die like robins, re: his death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 20:42:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,539</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29644581</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/xavierurban/pseuds/xavierurban</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Then, movement.</p><p>Tipping. <i>Falling</i>.</p><p>He doesn’t manage to recover the landing, crashing onto his side in a graceless heap a few feet away. He hears a shout - maybe more than one - and a sick, wet noise, and Damian pushes himself up and looks towards where he’d been standing just seconds before.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jason Todd &amp; Damian Wayne, Tim Drake &amp; Damian Wayne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>quick-writes [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2149884</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>336</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>031. Knife</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>All it takes is a split-second for everything to go to Hell. A split-second in which Damian freezes, staring down the knife coming right at his chest, cataloguing the hand holding it, the arm that hand is attached to, but not moving out of its path. A phantom pain burns in his chest and freezes the air in his lungs, and time seems to stand still as past and present play over each other in Damian’s mind’s eye.</p><p>Then, movement.</p><p>Tipping. <em> Falling. </em></p><p>He doesn’t manage to recover the landing, crashing onto his side in a graceless heap a few feet away. He hears a shout - maybe more than one - and a sick, wet noise, and Damian pushes himself up and looks towards where he’d been standing just seconds before.</p><p>Towards where someone else is standing now, red helmet gleaming under the streetlights. The assassin standing in front of the figure grabs their shoulder and pushes forward, driving the knife deeper before abruptly pulling it free with another wet noise. The red-headed figure seems frozen now, suspended for the length of a heartbeat before they fall to their knees, hands fumbling towards their gut - because of course a blow meant for Damian’s chest would fall lower on someone so much taller.</p><p>There’s another shout, a voice Damian thinks he should know, and the assassin looks around, their gaze landing on Damian as a sick smirk curls their lips. He twitches forward, and Damian draws back instinctively, hands coming up to block his face, but nothing makes contact, and when he looks up again, the assassin is gone.</p><p>He jumps when a hand falls on his shoulder, turning sharply as he raises his arms again, but he falters when he sees a familiar cowl.</p><p>“It’s okay,” Red Robin says, so much more gently than Damian is accustomed to, and Damian falters further, his arms dropping back to his sides. He opens his mouth to speak, but finds that words have left him entirely. Red Robin’s lips quirk into a small, sad smile of understanding as he squeezes Damian’s shoulder once before letting go. “Are you hurt?”</p><p>Damian shakes his head even as his hand comes up to rub at his chest. His whole, unpunctured chest.</p><p>“No,” he says finally. “I am unharmed.”</p><p>Red Robin looks him over for a moment, as if he doubts Damian’s own assessment, but finally nods.</p><p>“Good.”</p><p>His gaze strays, looking past Damian, and the younger boy turns to follow his teammate’s gaze with his own. It lands on three figures, Nightwing, Batgirl, and… and Red Hood. The latter is on his back on the ground with the other two hovering closely over him. There’s a white cloth - no, gauze, surely it’s gauze - stained with red in Nightwing’s hands where he’s pressing them down on Hood’s gut. Batgirl sits above Hood’s head, his helmet on the ground next to her as she holds his head and stares down at him, her lips moving with words Damian can’t make out from here.</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>He doesn’t mean to ask it out loud, but he must, because Red Robin inhales sharply. A moment later, he’s kneeling before Damian and has both hands on his shoulders as he looks him in the eyes.</p><p>“Because you’re our little brother, Robin,” he says, and he sounds tired.</p><p>No, that’s not right. Damian knows what a tired Red Robin sounds like, and it’s not this, not exactly.</p><p>He sounds… He sounds <em> sad</em>.</p><p>The words don’t process until after he’s processed the tone, and Damian finds himself frowning with confusion. Red Robin sighs and squeezes his shoulders before he leans in and– </p><p>And presses his lips to Damian’s forehead.</p><p>“No more dead Robins,” he mutters, and Damian frowns harder before his features loosen in surprise.</p><p>They’re quiet for what feels like a small eternity, and it only breaks when Damian realises that he’s reached up to hold onto Red Robin’s wrists. He lets go abruptly and looks away for a moment before looking back towards the others.</p><p>“Where’s father?”</p><p>He doesn’t mean to sound so small.</p><p>The silence that follows his question feels calculated, and he looks over at Red Robin again, takes in the unhappy turn of his lips.</p><p>“He went after the assassin,” he says finally, and Damian frowns. Looks again to where Hood is laid out, limbs lax in a way that speaks to unconsciousness.</p><p>“He should be here,” Damian hears himself whisper, a flicker of hurt growing in his chest.</p><p>Hood could have died, even if Damian wants to doubt that a simple stab wound could <em> really </em> do the older boy in. He could have <em> died</em>, and his father didn’t even stay to hold his hand.</p><p>It doesn’t feel right.</p><p>He knows that he isn’t injured himself, knows that there’s no reason he can’t retain some dignity and <em> stand</em>, but, for some reason, Damian finds himself crawling across the ground without even thinking about it. He stops when he reaches the other three vigilantes, ignoring the surprised look that Nightwing gives him as he takes Hood’s hand into his own.</p><p>He refuses to look up, but the softness in Nightwing’s voice is obvious enough when he says, “The Batmobile’s almost here.”</p><p>Damian doesn’t respond, not even when he hears Red Robin join them and start murmuring quietly over his head. He doesn’t move until the roar of the car arriving quiets again and a hand closes over his own before gently coaxing him to let go of Hood’s in favour of holding this one, instead.</p><p>“Just until we get him in the car,” Batgirl promises him, and Damian manages a small nod. He lets himself be pulled to his feet and guided over to the car, his eyes watching as Nightwing and Red Robin struggle to carry Hood to the Batmobile even as his mind fails to process it. He feels slow, sluggish, and Damian rubs his chest again, wondering if maybe he had been injured. Even a small graze would be enough to deposit thousands of poisons into his bloodstream.</p><p>Batgirl herds him into the backseat eventually, and Damian curls a hand around one of Hood’s ankles as the door shuts behind him. Batgirl gets into the passenger seat, and Nightwing slides into the driver’s seat, and then they’re moving, heading back to the Cave.</p><p>Hood’s head is pillowed in Red Robin’s lap, one of the younger boy’s arms throw protectively across Hood’s chest in lieu of a seatbelt. Damian grips his ankle a little more tightly.</p><p>Pennyworth is there to assist in removing Hood from the vehicle, and Damian follows unsteadily as Nightwing and the butler cart Hood off to the medbay. A hand on his shoulder stops him, and Damian tries to muster a scowl for Red Robin.</p><p>“Go hit the showers, Damian,” he says kindly, and Damian’s scowl cracks. He sighs quietly and gives a lethargic nod, trudging off towards the locker room as he ignores the hushed conversation between Drake and Brown.</p><p>By the time Damian exits the shower, Pennyworth has finished stitching Hood– <em> Todd </em>back up, but there’s still a bag of blood on the IV pole, along with another bag that Damian can only assume is a painkiller.</p><p>Todd will be <em> thrilled </em>about that when he rouses.</p><p>Damian ignores everyone else as he climbs up onto Todd’s bed and curls into the older boy’s side. He squeezes his eyes shut tighter when Grayson says his name, and, eventually, the man sighs softly and backs off. A blanket drapes over him a few seconds later, and Damian hesitantly grabs onto it and drags it closer.</p>
<hr/><p>“You shouldn’t have left,” a voice hisses.</p><p>“There was an assassin on the loose, Dick,” another voice responds, “what else do you expect me to have done?”</p><p>“And did you catch them?”</p><p>A grunt.</p><p>“Yeah, because <em> League assassins </em>know how to evade you. I know that. You know that.” A groan of frustration. “You should have stayed.”</p><p>Damian’s pillow shifts.</p><p>“Dick–”</p><p>Wait.</p><p>Pillows don’t move.</p><p>Damian cracks his eyes opened and realises he’s lying on some<em>one</em>, not some<em>thing. </em></p><p>And based on the change to his breathing pattern, Todd is awake.</p><p>A sigh. Soft, and sad.</p><p>“They both asked for you.”</p><p>“Just thought you should know that.”</p><p>Damian squeezes his eyes shut again, his breath stuttering in his chest, and he startles when Todd’s arm curls around his back and holds him close to the other boy’s chest.</p><p>“Maybe now you’ll think twice about leaving them behind the next time one of your kids is bleeding out on the ground.”</p><p>Damian trembles, his breath hitching treacherously.</p><p>“Go back to sleep, habibi,” Todd says, his words barely louder than the way he exhales.</p><p>Damian curls his fingers more tightly around his blanket and wonders why he finds himself wishing Todd was wearing a shirt he could clutch instead. He doesn’t say anything for a long while, but he knows that Todd’s breathing hasn’t changed again, knows that he’s still awake.</p><p>“Thank you, akhi,” he mumbles, and he thinks he might feel Todd’s arm tighten around him just a little.</p><p>If Damian manages to find a smile before he falls back to sleep, well. It’s no one’s business but his own.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>You know, I'm not sure Tim still had the costume with the cowl at this point, or if Steph would be Batgirl or Spoiler, but I'm not doing research for a quickwrite, soz.</p><p>Hope you all enjoyed this!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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